Why is it that holidays are always soo complicated? I mean, what is the big deal? It's an occasion for people to get together and eat and drink (hopefully) and maybe lay around and watch football. Basically it should be super lax, no stress. Well they rarely are that way. In fact every holiday I am reminded once again about how much better my life would have been if I were a man. Men get away with so much more shrugging of the shoulders, bodily noises, general laid-backness all of it and more accepted of most men. (Unless, you marry or are with a woman who hen-pecks you in which case you deserve it - idiot. Now wash the damn dishes).
My Dad gets a free ride every holiday for as long as I remember. He never has to go to Church, he doesn't have to even show up in fact he rarely does. And, do we love him less? No, in fact he stays out of a lot of unnecessary bickering, frequent crying, breakdowns, etc. Men have it made.
Huge debacle this year - not unlike many years of yore in my family. Mom, who has serious memory lags and, like a typical woman, is never wrong, changed everything around. So, today instead of us all being together she took an early flight home, my sister and her family ate day before fixings from the local grocery and I had a huge sweet potato at the house where I am dog sitting. On top of it all - I drove an hour plus eachway to spend some time with humans to watch Happy Feet (those fucking penguins on the tv trailer rapping make me want to start eating penguin) but no - in fact today I enjoyed it. I spent the ride home having an imaginery conversation about how it was great that kids' movies have morals and wondering how my nephews were affected by the film. Would they, as I did as a child, start to secretly become a vegetarian and ride everyone's asses to recycle and start call the local humane society when a neighbor's pony has "unkempt hooves." Too much I tell you. What is the solution? Well, alchohol of course and being weird. I've found I get away with a lot because I'm deemed as weird by normal suburban folk. I mean, I have to deal with the "hey, where's Kathy?" (down in basement making pipebombs - nooo, watching a movie. Dinner time I come upstairs to be greeted with) "Oh, look who showed up! Fancy that, Miss Sociable" (Can't imagine why I wouldn't want to be upstairs with the chickens). But, by then I've got a good buzz going. Not an ideal scenario though I've got to tell you - no one wants to be razzed. So, this year I am getting inside my Dad's head to figure out the secret to his avoidance of holiday drama. But, in reality I will probably end up in the basement watching my very own copy of the then newly released DVD of Happy Feet.